On Sunday morning, I went dress shopping with Lucy. Not that it was my idea—she conned me into it. When she knocked on my door at nine in the morning, I didn’t want to get out of bed at all, but I gave in after she told me she needed help picking out something Dad would love. Only when we pulled up to the bridal boutique on Hope Street did I realize we were shopping for her wedding dress. The bridal salon was empty when we walked in. Little bells chimed against the glass door, but nobody came to greet us. We walked around examining lace and satin gowns for a while before a chubby blond woman with a birthmark on her chin came out and asked which one of us was the bride. Lucy wasn’t the only the one who needed a dress though. I had to pick out a maid-of-honor gown—something in lavender, her favorite color. It had to be tea-length, chiffon, with sleeves. Those were the rules. I found three dresses that qualified and dragged them to the fitting room at the back of the store.
